The Calm
by Erika
Summary: “What if this event that we think is so horrible, this event that we think is the worst that things could get, is only the calm before the storm?"


Hi everyone. Still posting stories I wrote before HBP was published. This one is more of a scene than a story and leads into my novella length fic "Watching the Horizon," which I plan to start posting next week. I hope you enjoy the read.

**Title:** The Calm

**Author:** Erika

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** "What if this event that we think is so horrible, this event that we think is the worst that things could get, is only the calm before the storm?"

**Timeframe:** Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter are seventh-years.

**Spoilers:** For PoA (in a _very_ mild sense).

**Category:** Angst, POV

**Disclaimers:** Hogwarts and all of its characters belong to JK Rowling, I'm only borrowing them to have a little fun and I promise to return them unharmed (well, at least mostly unharmed =0). I'm making no money from this and this is written for entertainment purposes only.

**Feedback:** Both positive feedback and _constructive_ criticism are greatly appreciated and will be cherished!

**Archive:** Please ask first. =)

**Author's Note: **(1) Um…I'm not entirely sure what to say. This just popped into my head. It's more a long scene than it is a story… Not exactly developed. It's like a single picture in a strip of film. (2) I got the nickname "Grams" from the TV series "Charmed," which _used to be_ a good show. (3) There are references to my stories "Absolution" and "Injustice For All" but you should be okay if you haven't read them. They, along with all my other fics, can be found on my site.

**The Calm**

**Remus:**

Uneasiness. That was the word that best described how I was feeling the day that Professor Dumbledore pulled me from class to inform me that I was to be taken to St. Mungo's with all possible haste. Someone in my family was ill. I didn't have to ask who. Grams' health had been deteriorating steadily for the past year. It was only a matter of time before she passed away. No one, not the Healers and certainly not my parents, had said those words to me but I knew. I knew.

My restlessness prior to learning of Grams' condition had nothing to do with my worry for her. When my mum and I had last spoken, she had been doing relatively well. No, my apprehension was an indefinable thing. It was constant and encompassing but without any ostensible cause. Like that of a general in the unnaturally quiet moments before his men were ambushed, the tense edginess that prevented me from concentrating had a foreboding quality to it.

When Dumbledore gently told me that I was being called to St. Mungo's due to a family emergency, it seemed I had discovered the source of my disquietude. It was a sort of sixth sense; subconsciously I had known something was wrong. Having no reason to doubt what apparently made perfect sense, I did not think of it again for the following two days.

Indeed, there was little time to think of anything. The Healers kept my mum and I busy with explanations and practiced sympathy as they ran all sorts of tests on Grams. When they told us that her only hope of surviving the week was an experimental treatment that had been discovered within the last year I became a sounding board for my mum's indecision.

The procedure had been used sparingly and with varying degrees of success. Was it worth the risk if it worsened her condition? Did we want to shorten her life, rob her of half of the precious few days that we had been told she would live without treatment? I said little to nothing as my mum asked me these questions. I already knew what her decision would be. Grams was in a coma. Mum would do anything she thought might give her even a chance at a semi-comfortable life.

I was temporarily freed from the stifling situation when Sirius, James, and Peter rather surprised me by paying an unexpected visit. Dumbledore had kindly given me permission to miss classes for as long as was necessary and I'd not returned to Hogwarts since Professor McGonagall had escorted me to St. Mungo's. The Headmaster had informed my friends of the reason for my absence and had then facilitated their visit.

We walked through the halls of the hospital for nearly an hour. In quiet tones I thanked them for coming and explained that it was suffocating to be in that room, with Grams in a coma and my mum in tears. I told them that I wanted to comfort her but found myself unable to say more than a few consoling words. It seemed that I understood what my mum did not. We were only delaying the inevitable.

At hearing this, James and Peter clumsily attempted to offer their sympathies. Sirius remained silent, walking by my side throughout the conversation but never saying anything. It was an unusual occurrence but I understood. Padfoot knew me better than anyone. After nearly seven years he knew that it was his presence, not his words, that I would find comforting. Or perhaps that was what _I_ wanted to believe. Perhaps he simply did not know what to say.

I returned to the guests' lounge after saying goodbye to my friends. Visiting hours had ended for the day and my mum and I were not allowed to remain in Grams' room. It was then, after nearly forty eight hours, that I slept for the first time since leaving Hogwarts. It was a fitful rest though, one haunted by nameless, faceless fears that stayed with me when my mum woke me in the morning.

Uneasiness. That was the word that best described what I was feeling. I wanted to believe that it was because Grams would be undergoing the procedure but I knew, I felt, that it was something more. Something I couldn't identify. Something that was making it difficult to focus on the Healer's words. Foreboding. Again.

"…four hours," the young physician was saying, "After that, she will be in intensive care for another three."

"Why so long?" my mum inquired, taking Grams' hand in her own.

"Due to the nature of the treatment and the fact that it's been used so few times, we will have to use several follow-up healing charms to ensure that she recovers properly and doesn't develop an infection."

"When will we be able to see her?"

The Healer smiled compassionately, "Approximately eight hours after the procedure has been finished. I–"

His words were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. Thinking that it was one a nurse coming to update the Healer on one of the hospital's many patients, I kept my eyes focused on Grams.

She looked so frail, lying there in the gurney, dwarfed by the blankets and various objects that were charmed to sound the alarm if her condition changed. I would have preferred avoiding this, battling for her life in the bleakness of a hospital. Couldn't we have let her die in peace? At home? Why did we drag her here? To extend a life that was more painful than not? Didn't she deserve to end her days in happiness?

I knew Grams. She loathed growing weaker day by day; she loathed how each morning was more painful than the last. She enjoyed flying, hiking, traveling…any number of outdoor activities. She couldn't stand being restrained inside, not being able to do any of the things she loved. And here we were prolonging the life she was ready to leave. I understood that my mum loved her and didn't want to let her go. I felt the same way. _Our_ feelings weren't what mattered here, though. Couldn't she see–

"Can I help you?" the Healer asked, sounding slightly annoyed. "If you're here to see the patient then I'm sorry but you're going to have to wait until tomorrow morning."

"Forgive me for interrupting but would it be possible for me to have a word with Mr. Lupin?" a very familiar voice asked from just behind me.

Startled, I climbed to my feet and faced Professor McGonagall. "Professor?" I questioned softly, feeling a stab of anxiety. Something was wrong. She wouldn't have come here to speak with me unless something was seriously wrong.

"Please, Lupin, come with me," she requested, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Frowning, I nodded and followed her into the guests' lounge where she gestured for me to sit in one of the many comfortable chairs. After I did so, she settled herself in a seat that was positioned directly across from me.

"Lupin, I regret having to inform you that there's been an accident at Hogwarts," she began. "It seems that someone tampered with the Bludgers. When they were released during this morning's Quidditch game they immediately chased after the Gryffindor players. All managed to escape the field unharmed except…" her voice dwindled into silence. Whether it was because she couldn't say it or because she trusted my intelligence enough to not have to, she didn't tell me his name. But I knew.

James. It had to be. Sirius had been banned from Quidditch after the incident with Snape and the Whomping Willow. Peter was only skilled enough to play on the team in his dreams. Something had happened to James. "Is…is he all right?" I inquired, voice low and strained. It was a daft question – of _course_ he wasn't all right, McGonagall wouldn't be here if he was all right – but I had to ask.

Professor McGonagall briefly glanced down at her folded hands. When she met my gaze her eyes were suspiciously bright. I felt my chest tighten as I waited for her to speak. "Potter took a Bludger to the head. There was nothing Madam Pomfrey could do for him. He's been transferred to the emergency room here," her voice shook.

I swallowed. A dull pain emerged in my heart. Madam Pomfrey couldn't do anything for him? That was almost worse than hearing he was in the emergency room. Never in the nearly seven years that I had attended Hogwarts had I heard of a patient having to be transferred from her care because she didn't have the skill to heal him. "Is he expected to…recover?"

"It's too soon to tell," she replied rather shakily, "He's… He's in a coma."

_He's in a coma_. James. Coma…

Professor McGonagall and I sat in silence for the next few minutes as I tried to process what she had told me. It was horrible for me to think but this was worse than what was happening with Grams. Yes she was my grandmother but…she was nearly eighty years old and had lived a full, happy life. She had been ready to join grandpa for almost two years now, ever since he had passed on. I would miss her when she died but… I had been expecting this. I had known she did not have much time.

_James_ though. He was so young. And this was so sudden. He had been fine. I had seen him two days ago and he had been _fine_. Now… He was in a _coma_? Someone had tampered with the Bludgers? Why would anyone do something like that? And why _James_? Why did it have to be James? Not that I _wanted_ it to be somebody else but… I just…didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to think.

If he died…

It was almost inconceivable that I could be thinking those words. _If James died_. I knew that McGonagall was not lying to me, that James really was in a coma in critical condition, but at the same time this entire situation felt…unreal. How could this be happening? People were injured all the time playing Quidditch, but rarely seriously. Now, James could _die_ because someone – no doubt a Slytherin – had sabotaged the Bludgers.

James could actually _die_. I had taken it for granted that after graduation – sometime this summer – I would attend Lily's and his wedding. I had taken it for granted that sometime after that we'd be celebrating the birth of their first child. But he might not even graduate. In the remaining months of this term, I might lose one of my only friends.

I wasn't sure I knew how to deal with that. I wasn't sure any of us did.

Professor McGonagall and I exchanged a few more words but I couldn't focus on her enough to comprehend what she was saying. As soon as I could, I excused myself. By the time I wandered back to Grams' room they had already taken her away to begin the procedure. My mum and a nurse were waiting for me. The nurse would take us to where we could get relatively frequent updates on her condition. I wanted to go to the emergency room where Sirius, Peter, and Lily already were, but… This was my grandma. This was Grams. I had to wait. I couldn't leave my mum alone. I had to see how she came out of the procedure.

I had to wait.

4:00 A.M. It was 4:00 A.M. by the time they brought Grams back to her room. The procedure was a complete success and they were expecting her to regain consciousness within the hour. Though still frail and shrunken, she was a good deal less pale than before. It was the only real difference I noticed but it was surprising how much it struck me. She seemed much healthier.

My mum was ecstatic but it was relief – not joy – that I felt when I first saw that she was all right. Of _course_ I was glad that she was doing better but it was hard to hold onto that positive emotion when I couldn't stop worrying about Prongs. Shamefully, even my relief was multifaceted. I was finally free to join the others in the wait for a change in James' condition.

A kindly nurse, upon hearing that I had a friend in the emergency room, had taken it upon herself to keep me updated though there really was no news to share. In short, James was still in a coma, still in critical condition, and the Healers were still unsure of whether he would survive.

Five minutes after the nurses returned Grams to the room, I bent over her bed and gently kissed her cheek. Then, telling my overjoyed mum that I loved her and would be back as soon as I could, I left. I felt guilty for not being happier that the procedure had gone so well but I could not help it. How I was I supposed to be happy when James was in danger of dying?

I'd hardly been able to think of anything else, even Grams. Every time the nurse had returned from checking his condition with the same bleak look on her face, my anxiety had increased. How could they not know whether he would recover? If they had been able to help Grams, there had to be something they could do for James. There had to be. It had been _hours_ – _fifteen hours_ – since McGonagall had pulled me out of Grams' room. How could nothing have changed in all that time?

I paused when I entered the emergency room's waiting area. As with the guests' lounge in the elderly care facility, it was lined with comfortable seats and sofas and contained a small stand offering food and drink.

James' mum and dad were sitting on a couch located in the center of the room. Mr. Potter had his arm wrapped securely around the slumping shoulders of his wife. Though neither of them was crying there were dark, dark circles under their eyes and their faces were tight and strained. Pulled back into a bun that was beginning to come undone strand by strand, his mum's long dark hair was a disheveled messed. His dad's usually impeccable robes were rumpled and stained with what appeared to be drops of coffee. They were clearly exhausted and anguished.

Lily was seated at the end of the same couch. She had her feet drawn up onto the cushion and was hugging her knees to her chest. The position made her look like a forlorn child, not the young woman I had come to love as a sister. Her medium length wavy red hair hung loosely about her shoulders, slightly frizzy but mostly as neatly brushed as ever. Aside from her stance, it was mainly her eyes that betrayed her worry. Red-rimmed from the tears that had also stained her cheeks, they were bleak and filled with such bitter agony that some sympathy intruded upon my own apprehension.

My eyes quickly scanned the rest of the area. Peter was sitting in a chair on the far end of the room. He was leaning back so that his eyes were trained on the sterile white ceiling of the facility. As always, he was mostly unreadable to me.

Sirius was pacing back and forth across the length of the waiting room. I was not surprised. When he was agitated his body tended to race as fast as his mind. He had probably spent little to no time sitting since arriving here. The frantic energy thrumming through him wouldn't allow it. Though a symptom of his inability to wait this had more to do with his frustration at not being able to help James and not knowing what was going to happen. A normally decisive person, Sirius hated and had extreme difficulty dealing with uncertainty.

In fact, I was rather relieved to find him this way. I was close enough to Sirius to know that there was a stage that came after this. When Sirius because frightened enough, worried enough, anxious enough, he would stop walking, stop pacing, stop doing everything. Instead, he would remain unmoving for hours at a time, unable to think of anything save the problem he was facing. Unaware of the passage of time, he would stare without focus until someone or something brought him back to reality.

Once, I had found him in that condition. After the Prank, upon learning that I would have been put to death for killing a human being, he had been overwhelmed by guilt and disgust. Fleeing from class, he had hidden in a labyrinth of secret passages that only he and I knew about, a labyrinth that wasn't even on the map. Eventually, many hours after he had disappeared, I'd gone searching for him. When I had come across him at the foot of those stairs, vomit at his feet and such a terribly blank look in his eyes…I had been more worried for him than any of the times he had told me about his horrible family. I had been more worried for him than any of the times he had stalked up and down a room, shaking and unable to rest due to the desperate anxiety or anger that bubbled within him.

Sighing inaudibly, I froze in the doorway. The last time we'd all been together was at a party that James' parents had thrown to celebrate their son's and Lily's engagement. Mr. Potter had cooked a fabulous dinner after which we had all retreated to the living room to enjoy the evening. I could still remember how Lily had giggled when James had insisted that they dance even though there was no music. Sirius had joined in the silliness by dancing though he had no partner. Assuming one could call what he had done 'dancing'…

God, we had laughed so much that night.

I sighed again. James dying. I couldn't even imagine it. I couldn't imagine the tears that would follow. I couldn't imagine having to don black clothes for a funeral, having to carry or trail a casket through the even grey tombstones of a cemetery. I couldn't imagine throwing a handful of earth down and then walking away. I could see all the pictures in my mind, like the fragmented glass of a shattered mirror, but I couldn't see them in relation to James. I couldn't imagine James actually being _gone_, walking into the dormitory and not seeing him there.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to move. Mechanically, I crossed over to where the Potters were and briefly found and squeezed Mrs. Potter's hand. She didn't return the pressure but met my gaze with a brief flicker of gratitude in her eyes. Nodding slightly, I slipped past her and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Lily's cheek.

As I pulled away, she caught my wrist and held it for a moment. When she released me, I stepped back and offered her a small, sad smile.

She returned it.

Wordlessly, I made my way to the back of the room. Peter had noticed me and was watching my progress but Sirius, still pacing, seemed oblivious to my arrival. I was about to sink down into a chair next to Wormtail's when the silence was broken by accusatory, nearly vicious words that both did and did not surprise me.

"Why did you even bother to show up?" Sirius demanded, sounding equally tired and furious. "James could have died twice over in the time it took you to get from one end of the hospital to the other."

My friend's words would have stung if I thought he meant them. It was unusual for Sirius to take out his emotions on me but I knew that he was tired, worried, and frustrated by the lack of any news.

Wearily lifting my gaze I saw that he had reached the wall and spun around to face me. His eyes were dark but contained more fatigue than they did anger. I was about to reply when Peter unexpectedly jumped to my defense. Usually, when it seemed that James, Sirius, or I were going to get into any sort of disagreement he remained silent and watched. In fact, I suspected that he rather enjoyed it.

"Back off, Sirius," he snapped tiredly, "His grandmother was undergoing a dangerous procedure. What was he supposed to do? Not even you can be in two places at the same time."

"It's all right, Peter," I shot him a grateful look. "I understand."

Wordlessly, Sirius brushed past me and made his way to the opposite wall. Only this time he didn't turn around and come back. He stayed there, apparently staring out the window at the dark, nearly starless sky.

Without thought, I followed him. Stopping when I was diagonally behind him by about two feet, I fixed my eyes on the same black night. And it _was_ black, having remained sufficiently overcast for the mass of clouds to completely obscure the light of the waning moon.

"Graduation is coming up. James' and Lily's wedding. Adulthood. Life in the so-called 'real world'…" he whispered, voice exhausted and lacking all of the harshness it had contained before. "I've thought of it all so often. I've tried to be happy but… I don't know, Remus. What with everything that's been happening, everything we've been hearing about Voldemort, dark wizards…the disappearances and murders…and how nervous Dumbledore and the lot of them seem… I feel like I'm standing in fading sunlight that's about to be swallowed up by a storm. This year has been nothing but a series of horrible events, starting with my family and then that whole business with the Ministry and you…"

When a girl – Lily's best friend – had been killed by a werewolf I'd nearly found myself facing execution. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore, Sirius, and James, I would have been killed without thought of investigation. I wouldn't even have had the chance to be proven innocent.

"And now with James…" he continued listlessly, "I feel like…this is only the beginning. Like it's the calm…"

That was it. That was exactly what I had been feeling put into words, at least as best as it could be. The uneasiness, the foreboding, that was it… The feeling that something terrible was going to happen. The feeling that after this, everything was just going to go…_wrong_. It was like clinging to the last moments of childhood, of happiness, of a dream, before everything was ripped to shreds.

Slowly, he shifted to look at me. His eyes were haunted. "What if this–" he gestured vaguely at the wretched hospital, "What if this event that we think is so horrible, this event that we think is the worst that things could get, is only the calm before the storm?"

I didn't know what to say.

Things had been so…tense as of late. It was as if a shadow was slowly falling over the wizarding world, a shadow that couldn't be repelled by anything. Not even light. It was a shadow that had slowly been encroaching on Hogwarts, on the Marauders. Before, everything had been relatively easy to ignore because it hadn't affected _us_ but now our safe little world was being intruded on.

And what would happen if our 'safe little world' was reduced to just the three of us? If he died…it would be more than just a horrible event in a string of horrible events, a string that was just starting to take form. It would be… I couldn't even describe it. It would be _James_ _dying_. And the fear that things would only get worse. But how could they get worse? How could they get worse than this?

Sirius sighed. He seemed disappointed and relieved by my silence. "How did things go with your grandmother?"

I let my eyes flicker back to the window. "They went well. She's okay. She'll be okay…for now."

His lips twitched in a failed attempt to smile. "Good. How's she holding up?"

"She was still asleep when I left," I immediately understood his mistake in thinking she was already awake. "They only brought her back to the room just a few minutes before I came here."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the surprised jerking of Sirius' head. "The procedure took that long?"

I looked at him again. "The procedure and all the precautions they had to take afterward."

"And when did you know she'd come out of it all right?" he asked

"About an hour before they brought her in." At approximately 3:00 A.M. in the morning. It was an ungodly hour. This was an ungodly hour to be waiting in a hospital because the life of someone I loved was hanging in the balance.

He swallowed. "It's a long time to wait."

Our gazes locked. We both knew he wasn't talking about Grams. I nodded. "Yeah, it is." It was always a long time to wait. Waiting was almost the worst of it – the uncertainty of it all, the pain, sorrow, and dangling thread of hope.

Shaking his head, Sirius turned his back to the wall by the window and sunk down to the floor. Drawing his legs up in a position quite similar to Lily's, he leaned his head and shoulders against the sterile white.

"Do you–" I cleared my throat. "Do you want to be alone?"

Mutely, he shook his head.

Glancing longingly towards the many soft, comfortable seats and sofas that filled the room, I lowered myself to the floor so that I could sit next to my friend. The full moon had been nearly a week ago but my muscles were still stiff and sore, something that I became increasingly aware of as I tried to settle myself into a relatively painless position.

"Remus," he began, "I–"

Knowing what he was going to say, I waved my hand and cut him off. "Sirius, don't. It's all right. I understand."

He remained unconvinced. "She's your grandmother, you had to be there. I just– I wanted you here–"

I smiled tiredly. "Sirius," I assured him gently, "I understand."

"Right," he nodded and fell silent again.

Trying unsuccessfully to still the tremor in my heart, the aching pain in my chest, I closed my eyes. There was nothing else to say. Nothing else that would be meaningful at a time like this. Nothing else that could help the minutes pass easier, help us to deal with whatever the torturously long hours might bring. We could only wait and see.

Wait and see.

THE END


End file.
